The Good Guy
by Jennifer Jolie
Summary: But his face is Scott's face, leering from the grave, 'This is what you've done, Jean, and you're going to have to live with it forever.' Because a phoenix dies only to be reborn.
1. Chapter 1

I read an interview given by Zak Penn in which he claimed the most "dramatic" thing for Phoenix to do right away would be to kill her lover, because from that point on it'd be no holds barred. As I yelled to some people, it may have been dramatic but it was also quite _pointless. _Raaaawwrr!

So two things I'm trying to achieve with this fic: proper closure for Scott, and some dark, _dark_, manipulative Phoenix, which I don't see too many people writing.

--

Colossus: Jean, if there is anything **human** remaining within you...  
Dark Phoenix: There isn't."

_--Uncanny X-Men 136_

"I...**hunger**, Scott--for a joy, a rapture, beyond all comprehension...It...**consumes** me."

--Dark Phoenix, Uncanny X-Men 136

--

The Good Guy

In his dreams... you're calling his name; but floating lifelessly in the water, your skin is a mottled gray and your limbs are cold. He runs to the lake and cups your face in his hands, begging for some kind of a miracle, but you only gaze back with eyes that are faded and lips that are still.

As you laid the barest foundations of a plan, you weren't in any hurry. Why draw a straight line from the start to the finish? Better to give his mind little nudges, let him feel his own way through the maze. Scott. Scott. For days, weeks, months, you've had him dreaming about you.

Until today. The day is a beautiful joke; it's sunny and the air is mild. The glassy green lake is almost uncannily picturesque, and maybe the birds are even singing in the trees. Things could hardly have gone better if you'd planned them that way. And today, all his dreams come true.

You're blinking in the daylight. Fluttering your eyelashes. Reaching for his hand.

"Jean?" he whispers, hardly daring to believe this is true. "How...?"

"I don't know," you lie, keeping your expression surprised. Everything is very deliberately surreal. His lower lip is trembling and you know he's close to tears again, as he's been all this time, on the brink of wreckage.

You'll help him get there.

Leaning slightly on him for support, you rest your chin on his shoulder. He tightens his embrace around you. "Oh, Scott," you murmur. "I missed you, Scott."

Now he's there, and he's eating out of your hand. Never mind that nothing really makes sense, Scott isn't thinking in terms of logic right now.

His kisses start off slow and tentative, but you coax and tease him with your lips until they grow quicker and more desperate. _How it's always been_, you think to him, and you can feel yourself smiling. You guide his hands to the front of your suit and he obliges, unzipping it in one smooth motion. You do the same for him but without quite the same urgency, and it drives him completely wild. And when he takes you, and a moan unconsciously escapes your lips, you have to admit it's all turning out to be even more enjoyable than you expected.

It's all over so quickly you can't catch your breath. You snuggle up against his chest, breathing hard – he still has his shirt on, even. He runs his hands through your hair, feeling the warm pulse in your neck. "Jean," he whispers again, and you know he's come over his disbelief.

Now.

With a slightly crooked smile you finger the arms of his glasses. " Take these off."

He's bewildered. "What?"

"Take these off. I can control it now." You dangle the clincher before him seductively, "Trust me."

How could he not?

You reach up and pull off his glasses, laying them beside you by the edge of the water. Giggle. "Open your eyes."

He does, haltingly. Blinking in the daylight.

"Scott, look at me."

You're holding the beams from his eyes back telekinetically, just for a moment. Barely remembering to breathe now, Scott looks all around at the lake, at you, and your wicked smile.

And then you let go.

"Jean!" he yells, but you don't care to listen, your vision has gone red and the energy's soaking through your skin.

Power trip.

He's fighting you but you're holding his eyelids open with your telekinesis, and every moment drinking in this raw power only makes you stronger. Perfect equilibrium. He ought to be happy.

He keeps screaming...

You release your hold on him. When you look at him again, his eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

"Jean... Jean, are you okay?" he gasps, on all fours, feeling blindly around for his glasses. He's burned perfect hole the size of a bottlecap through each of his hands.

"Shh, I'm okay," you say soothingly. It's hard to keep your voice steady, though, when you're still reeling from the thrill. "I... I think I'm more than okay."

You fit his glasses back onto his face and then simply, discreetly, shut off his mind. He's asleep.

Now, what next?

They must know by now that Scott's left the mansion, and surely they can guess where he's gone to. The mansion. The next step in your plan... not that you've had one to begin with, you're just making it up as you go. It's more fun that way. And of course it helps that your friends are so predictable...

By the time the Blackbird touches down the scene is set. Scott's lying a few feet away from you, fully dressed if not fully conscious. He'll remember nothing, save for maybe a very pleasant dream. You're just playing dead.

You can sense Ororo's suspicious, as she well should be. Call it women's intuition. Logan, on the other hand, runs to you first, leaving Ororo to struggle with Scott. He puts his ear to your chest to listen for your heartbeat – rather more intimately than would have been strictly necessary, you know; he probably detected you from a mile off in the air. But when you suited up you left the zipper down a substantial distance from where it usually is, and there's something terribly inviting about that.

During the flight back to the mansion you're absolutely quiet. You even let Logan hold your hand, and the suspense drags on.

Wind him up. Have your fun.

Wait till you're alone with him.

--

First part of three. Please let me know what you thought of this!


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry this took so long, school has taken over my life again. I realize the flow of plot is not entirely logical, but figured it didn't matter so much for this fic – and least I got it written, in the end. I am still working on the final part of this and the twelfth chapter of Powerless! You might also want to check out Your Peace, which is bleak for a while too, but not _devastating_ like this is turning into (whatever happened to me!?). That said...

--

Ask not for pity from **Dark Phoenix**, my love. There is none in her.

_--Uncanny X-Men 135_

--

And so here you are.

With every moment that passes you're more in tune with the world. You know from the cool, sterile air and quiet purring of familiar machinery that you're in the infirmary, but more than that, you can feel it, you know what it _is_.

They brought you in, changed you out of the suit for who-knows-what-reason, hooked you up to a couple of things, and then they left when they grew tired of waiting for something to happen. Only Logan's left now, and you can hear his heart pounding, feel the tightness in his jaw.

He squeezes your hand gently. Sighs. And then says, quietly, "Jean, stop pretending."

You're still suppressing the device that's measuring your pulse, among others. It hums contentedly.

"Jean, if you can hear me, say something."

No.

"Please." He swallows. "Jean, we can fix it. We can make it like it was..."

"I don't want to fix it!"

You've opened your eyes and released your hold on the machines. Out of the corner of your vision, the flat lines on a display screen spike and jump.

Logan reacts in the same way. "Jean!?"

Behind him, you see Scott lying motionless on a bed like yours. Still asleep.

You're sitting up slowly, with a coquettish smile on your lips. "Hey, Logan."

He frowns, wary.

"Remember when we first met?" you say, amused. "I was in your place and you were in mine..."

"Dammit, Jean, stop playing games," he cuts in. "Something happened back at the lake. I can smell you all over Scott. You shouldn't even be alive right now."

"Oh, but I am." You touch the side of his face, and he shudders.

"Jean... this isn't you."

"Yes, it is," you whisper, and draw him up against you, pressing your lips to his. He groans but only leans in closer, deepening the kiss. His hands encircle your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your top, and you pull back slowly until he's directly on top of you, skin grinding on skin.

The stimulus flushes the last awkward questions from Logan's mind, his doubts consumed by a lust like wildfire. You're beginning to lose yourself beneath his touch – _like I wanted from the beginning –_ when he's suddenly pulled roughly away.

Scott. Glasses in place, though askew. Breathing raggedly.

"Logan," Scott spits. "You take your hands off her. I swear I'll kill-"

It happens so quickly that the thought of doing it doesn't even flicker across his mind; his instincts are purely animal – an animal protecting its territory.

_Snikt._

"...you." The word dies on Scott's lips. He chokes, blood foaming out of his mouth.

_Snikt_. Wolverine retracts his claws. Scott pitches foreword, cracking his head on the shiny metal tiles.

Oh, God... you never saw it coming. You can't predict what he'll do next, unlike everyone else, because his mind doesn't work like everyone else's.

That terrifies you.

And a spell is broken, and you're suddenly conscious of how you feel, and _oh, God, Scott! There's a chasm in my mind suddenly, a gap, a silence; years, memories, and love! _

_Scott, what've I done?_

_Too many thoughts. Drowning._

_Shut it off..._

Some device beeps frantically, climaxing, and then stops. You exhale.

Logan, who's been frozen, numb with shock, gets down and turns the corpse over, checking foolishly for a pulse. It brings you back to your senses. No one could ignore this...

Now you're sensing something new. Someone. The professor. He's caught on to you.

Before, you're certain you could've gotten away with half a dozen mental smokescreens and excuses. He doesn't intuitively know you as well as he likes to think he does, and besides, who can plumb a mind?

That is, who but you?

_Jean!_ He's yelling. _Don't do anything until I get there!_ Approaching only fast as he can with two hands and two wheels.

There's blood on your hands now; its stink hangs in the air. No one could fail to spot that something's amiss. Arriving now, the professor could change everything.

And you don't want the cure whilst you're enjoying the disease.

You run from the scene while you still can, paying no heed to Logan's yelling. It's not your marks they'll find on the body. Who's the crazy one now?

--

I know this is going to be an unpopular chapter (it's too horrible to even consider it could happen), but I'd really love to hear what you thought of it. Please review, I love getting reviews, I add shamelessly. (!!)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Well here I am, plodding along. I wanted to finish it, even though this last chapter's short (but how many times can you read about this last scene anyway? Haha...). If you liked it, please take a quick moment to REVIEW (plug!), and if you really liked it, I have other fics...

--

"If you must feel sorry for anyone, misfit, feel sorry for yourself. For you and your fellow X-Men will be the ones to suffer tonight!"

_--Dark Phoenix, Uncanny X-Men 136_

**Jean:** Scott, am I worth it? I destroyed a world--in my mind, I can still hear the screams of the dying--and it felt...**good**! I don't want that feeling ever again. And yet--I **do**!   
**Cyclops:** I know. But to give up--that'll be like saying that Dark Phoenix **won**. That you are evil. You're **not**! Jean, whatever happens, know that **I** love you. And I'll stand by you.

_--Uncanny X-Men 137_

--

You've seen it coming in the sense that you've seen every atom in the universe coming towards you. Every permutation of the past, present, and future is a fine grain of sand in a boundless desert – all of so little consequence because you tread them beneath your feet. Of these, only one of the myriad futures can come to pass, and in this case it's this unfavorable one – you are standing atop of heap of wrecked cars, fighting to preserve your existence. Everyone has turned against you and you're not surprised. But this time, the Professor is dead. No one will be trapping you. You will not be suffering tonight...

You're enjoying this. Kicking down sandcastles.

In the midst of your vainglorious reverie you can see Logan, pitifully making his way over to you. Logan, who's becoming tiresome, because he always seems to be saying, _look, Jean, _I _was the good guy. _

That's not what you _want_. You want...

He takes another step forward. Your thoughts are beginning to unravel.

...power, vengeance, sex, freedom...

He takes another step forward.

...to protect mutants, to save lives, to teach Biology again...

He takes another step forward.

...to go home, to marry Scott, to raise a family...

You want to drown.

He takes another step forward.

You don't deserve the good guy anymore.

He takes another and you want to - the words fall from your lips – "Die, for them."

But he stabs you in the side, and as the enervation floods through your veins, you know it has always been too late for regrets.

--

"Surely...you know a Phoenix dies only to be reborn."

_--Shadowcat as Dark Phoenix, Uncanny X-Men 157_

--

"Jean... it's over."

It stings so much that my eyes have filled with tears and I can't see. I clutch at my side, and there's hard there. A plastic syringe.

But we're not in the infirmary... I don't know where we are. A hot wind blows suddenly in my face, pungent with the hot stink of metal and burning rubber. Logan's taken me in his arms, and he's carrying me somewhere else, his footsteps shaky but resolute.

He's saying, "I'm going to get you out of here, everything's going to be okay..."

But his face is Scott's face, leering from the grave, _"This is what you've done, Jean, and you're going to have to live with it forever."_

Your voice is coarse and raspy. "Logan... the voices in my head..."

"It's okay, Jean, it's going to be okay."

_"You're responsible for the deaths of all these people."_

"You have to listen, Logan..." It hurts to talk. "The voices in my head, I listened to the voices, I did what they told me to..."

"They're gone, Jean, they're never coming back."

_"But at the end of the day, Jean, I'm the one you take home. I'm the one who sticks around."_

"I... I'll never die, Logan," you whisper, eyes flooding with hot tears.

"Never, Jean. Never," Logan whispers back, with an awful ferocity. His arms tighten around you and then they never let you go.

--

end.


End file.
